


Transforming

by eerian_sadow



Series: Avalon [39]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen, Grief, Sadness, bring all your tissues, bring tissues.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-27
Updated: 2009-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9428810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Static is old enough to pick out her first alternate mode. Of course, she's as picky as her father about such things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for [](http://silveriss.livejournal.com/profile)[silveriss](http://silveriss.livejournal.com/)'s claim on my 28 themes page. i do apologize for this--it's not at all what i had intended for it to be. the angst kind of bodyslammed me into submission and it came out really sad.

Static frowned at the assortment of mechanical designs on the screen in front of here. “I don’t like them.”

“Doesn’t matter if you like them,” the medic on duty replied. “You have to pick one or someone else picks for you.”

She sighed. The medic—who’s name she couldn’t even remember and didn’t want to—was being a jerk about the whole situation. She knew she needed an alt mode. She was well aware that she had been upgraded enough for one for about three years now. She also knew that Bluestreak or Sunstreaker could have just dumped one on her if they wanted, but were giving her the opportunity to choose her own, something that suited her personal style, the way they had let her older brother.

“It matters,” the femme said sharply. “Because if I don’t like it, I’m _not_ using it.”

The medic threw up his hands in disgust. “Fine. Have it your way. Be stubborn. It’ll be your aft on the line when Perceptor comes back and finds out that you still haven’t picked _something_.”

“Uncle Perceptor is the last mech alive who would be mad at me for something so incredibly trivial.” Static entered a command into the keyboard, widening her search parameters. If she couldn’t find something current she liked, maybe something older would strike a chord.

She spent hours searching, going back year after year until she was looking at technology that might have been new when the _Ark_ crew had awakened from their four million year stasis. She paged through the results dispassionately, expecting to continue to be disappointed with the offerings.

She jerked upright in her seat when her eyes landed on a beautiful racing model car. “It’s perfect…”

The medic came back and looked over her shoulder at the vehicle. “It’s sixty years out of date.”

“So. Have you _seen_ Kup’s alt mode? I’m pretty sure it’s older than Cybertron.” She tapped the screen. “This is what I want.”

“Fine. Whatever. Come over to the berth so I can get to work on the formatting.”

“It’s all right,” Perceptor said softly from behind them. “I’ll do the formatting, Welder. I’m familiar with the model.”

Welder—she might have remembered that if he hadn’t been such a jerk—shot Static a dirty look. “Have at it. She’s completely—“

“You are dismissed, Welder.” Perceptor’s tone could have chilled ice.

The medic took the hint and left the medbay. Quickly.

“I would transfer him back to Cybertron if he weren’t such an expert with neural mechanics and processor repair.” The scientist sighed. “I am sorry that I left you to deal with him all day.”

“I forgive you.” Static gave her “uncle” a hug before climbing onto the medical berth. “You sounded sad earlier, though.”

“I knew a mech who had your chosen alt mode, many years ago.” He kept his tone even as he gathered the required tools, but the femme knew Perceptor well enough to know that he was just trying to keep her from realizing how sad he really was at the moment. “We were very close. Most of us stationed _Ark_ were.”

“Was it…” she hesitated, knowing she was about to go into almost forbidden conversation territory. “Was it one of your bondmates?”

Perceptor shook his head. “No. You would make a lovely Lancia, though.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Percy. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

The scientist paused for a moment, and then looked at her in surprise. “Static, why would you ever think that you made me sad? My memories make me sad, not you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you remember sad things, then.” She held her arms out to him, suddenly needing a hug—and suspecting that Perceptor did too.

He set down his tools and wrapped his arms around her. “You and Shatter have brought me more joy than I thought I would ever be able to feel. And if you sometimes trigger bad memories, they are balanced by how often you trigger or give good ones.”

Static clung to him tightly, not knowing what to say. Perceptor held her for several minutes before gently disentangling himself.

“We need to reformat you before I send you home.”

“Are Dad and Bluestreak going to be sad too?” She would change her alt mode in an instant—even to something she hated—if her choice was going to hurt either of her creators.

“Very likely. But they will also remember the good times.” He nudged her gently to get the femme to lie down on the berth.

“I don’t want them to be sad.”

“Are you changing your mind then?” Perceptor waited patiently, giving Static a moment to think things over.

“No,” she finally replied. Static gave him a small smile. “I’ll just have to give you all more good memories.”

He couldn’t return her smile yet—the pain in his spark still stung too deeply—but he nodded in agreement. Then he set to work on Static’s first reformat.

It was strange to see the subtle changes in her form as he walked her to the door. The side mirrors were particularly jarring; Static just wasn’t supposed to have side mirrors, though most of the Earth stationed Autobots did. Still, the form seemed to suit her.

When they stepped outside, she activated her transformation sequence for the first time, with all the ease of a femme who had been doing it for a thousand years. The alt mode really was perfect for her.

Static laughed in delight at the sensation. “That was so easy! It’s perfect, Uncle Percy!”

“Yes it is,” he agreed softly. “Are your navigation programs properly uploaded and responding?”

There was a pause while the femme accessed the proper sections of her memory. “Yep. Looks like I’m good to go.”

“Then best that you head home before Bluestreak starts worrying about you.” Perceptor stepped forward and patted her on the roof. “Drive safely.”

“I will! See you later!”

The scientist suppressed a sigh as she peeled out and sped off. She would regret that in the morning, when her tires were stinging and no medic would be sympathetic enough to give her a mild painkiller. When Static was out of sight, he walked back into the medbay, debating the merits of calling ahead to Bluestreak and warning him about his creation’s new alt mode. After all, if it had hurt him to see the femme transformed into Jazz’s old alt mode, the sniper would feel much worse.

In the end, Sunstreaker called him.

“You didn’t even try to talk her out of it?”

“No,” Perceptor replied. “I didn’t. I know he won’t be forgotten this way. And it gives her… style.”  



End file.
